Tuesday, March 4, 2014

I've been sitting here, glass of wine in hand, staring at this blank screen with its accusatory flashing cursor for the last 20 minutes. I am forcing myself to write even though it's the last thing I want to do. Yep, even less than laundry, and that, my friends should be extremely telling. It's not that I don't have anything to write about, because I do. Plenty has happened in these last six weeks that is totally blog-worthy. I just can't seem to find the energy or the will to care enough to write it.

Perhaps this winter, in all of its frigid bitterness has sapped me. But I think the more likely reason is that I am simply out of the habit. It used to be that I found something to write about at least three times a week and went at it hammer and tong. Now, even though I have some things to write about, there are other things that feel more off limits. As my kids get older, I feel like I have to be more judicious in what I post about them. And the dog has somehow found her middle age mellow. I'm not that all interesting by myself. (Although I did recently have a procedure done that you may get to hear about. Because medical stuff just screams funny, right?) The neighbors have been, if not friendly, at least not openly hostile. House things are coming together, but I don't know if anyone even wants to hear about projects I've taken on.

At first I didn't write because I didn't have much to write about. Then when I did have some things to write about, sitting down and staring at a blank screen and a hostile, blinking cursor made me uncomfortable. And being uncomfortable in a place that I had never been uncomfortable before made me resent the whole idea of writing. And instead of writing my way through it, I simply shrugged my shoulders, and said "meh" to the whole thing.

I don't want to be that way. I don't want to not do something that has meant so much to me just because I'm uncomfortable. I want to be the kind of person that sits in that uncomfortable spot and says, "how are you going to change it?" And so, you kind, sweet people, please bear with me as I find my way back to the sweet spot. It's likely to be a little awkward and lurchy around here, as I find my footing again. But I'll get there, because I've decided that there is a better place to be than here.

I've been sitting here, glass of wine in hand, staring at this blank screen with its accusatory flashing cursor for the last 20 minutes. I am forcing myself to write even though it's the last thing I want to do. Yep, even less than laundry, and that, my friends should be extremely telling. It's not that I don't have anything to write about, because I do. Plenty has happened in these last six weeks that is totally blog-worthy. I just can't seem to find the energy or the will to care enough to write it.

Perhaps this winter, in all of its frigid bitterness has sapped me. But I think the more likely reason is that I am simply out of the habit. It used to be that I found something to write about at least three times a week and went at it hammer and tong. Now, even though I have some things to write about, there are other things that feel more off limits. As my kids get older, I feel like I have to be more judicious in what I post about them. And the dog has somehow found her middle age mellow. I'm not that all interesting by myself. (Although I did recently have a procedure done that you may get to hear about. Because medical stuff just screams funny, right?) The neighbors have been, if not friendly, at least not openly hostile. House things are coming together, but I don't know if anyone even wants to hear about projects I've taken on.

At first I didn't write because I didn't have much to write about. Then when I did have some things to write about, sitting down and staring at a blank screen and a hostile, blinking cursor made me uncomfortable. And being uncomfortable in a place that I had never been uncomfortable before made me resent the whole idea of writing. And instead of writing my way through it, I simply shrugged my shoulders, and said "meh" to the whole thing.

I don't want to be that way. I don't want to not do something that has meant so much to me just because I'm uncomfortable. I want to be the kind of person that sits in that uncomfortable spot and says, "how are you going to change it?" And so, you kind, sweet people, please bear with me as I find my way back to the sweet spot. It's likely to be a little awkward and lurchy around here, as I find my footing again. But I'll get there, because I've decided that there is a better place to be than here.

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About Me

I am a mother of four. I write. I take pictures. I rant about the latest thing my dog has done. Usually she is successful in making me look supremely stupid. Sometimes I get inspired and take on a decorating project or two. And this is the place I document my victories and foibles. I think if you visit here often, you'll leave feeling better than when you came. Only because my failures far outpace my victories. You're welcome! I'm generous like that.